


The Nightmare

by KateKintail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is having nightmares about Hell, wets the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightmare

Jess pinned to the ceiling on fire. Demon blood dripping into his mouth in his nursery. Another birthday party at Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical menagerie. Sam was no stranger to nightmares. But this one was different. This one was worse.

This one wasn’t about him. It was about his brother standing at a crossroads, agreeing to abandon Sam in order to save him. It was about invisible hounds tearing into the car, slashing Dean across the face and chest, and pulling him down into hell with them. It was about Dean in hell, roasting, in endless, excruciating pain.

Sam woke with a yell. At least, he thought it was a yell. It’d been a yell in the dream. He drew a wrist over his sweat-damp forehead, hair sticking to his face. He’d just been in hell. Not the kind of hell he had read about in books or seen on television. Something worse. Something so much worse. And right in the middle of it had been Dean. Sam had tried to get to him, tried to reach him, but no matter what Sam did, Dean was too far in to help. 

Turning onto his side, Sam looked over at the other twin bed. Dean was there, still fast asleep. Which was good, because turning in bed had made Sam realize something. He reached a slightly shaky hand down and felt his crotch. Wet. This wasn’t sweat, though it was warm. Sam squeezed his eyes closed. 

He hadn’t wet the bed since he was a little kid, scared when Dad left them alone in creepy motels for days at a time. Sam shook with sudden chill. Dad had chosen to leave them then and had chosen to die. And here was Dean doing the exact same thing, his father’s son. Sam scratched his crotch where it was starting to itch. 

Throwing off the covers, the pungent odor could not be missed. He pulled off his shorts and undershirt on his way to the bathroom. This wasn’t the world’s cleanest motel. But the shower was hot enough. He brought his clothes in with him, rinsing them as he washed himself. 

Fresh sheets and an extra blanket were on the top shelf of the closet. Sam balled the others up and stuck them in a trash bag in the closet. Then he lay back down in bed with a thick towel folded under his rear. Sam didn’t sleep, though. He wasn’t so worried about wetting the bed again. He was worried about being back in hell, feeling the heat and pain, and seeing Dean right in the middle of it all. 

*

 

It was a good thing Dean was driving, because Sam kept nodding off in the passenger seat. 

“Hey, Sasquatch.” Dean thumped Sam in the chest as he got back into the car with fast food. Stiff and sleepy, Sam came awake with a start and tried to stretch out as much as he could. Thankful his crotch was dry, he yawned and looked into the bag. Bacon cheeseburger for Dean. Side salad for Sam. Fries for them both. And giant sodas that would get them through the next two states easily. 

Sam only sipped his. He knew he shouldn’t drink too much. 

It was a nice strategy, but when he woke up four hours later, wet and hot and almost sick from the nightmare, he knew the problem wasn’t going to be solved so quickly. Sam changed, grabbed a book and flashlight, and settled in for a long night without sleep.

*

 

“You been sleepin’ all right, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyelids were heavy, but he pried them open as he turned his face from the soothingly cool window to look at Dean. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You look exhausted.” 

Sam looked back out the window as the scenery changed from highway to exit ramp to a string of gas stations and motels. Their kind of place. Dean pulled into a motel and Sam followed him in to the front desk, eyeing the coffee machine on the desk. Without giving it a second thought, he filled a cup for himself. Staying awake all night seemed like a much better alternative to those nightmares. 

Coffee and his laptop should have done the trick. But he was already so exhausted that he couldn’t help nod off a few hours after Dean went to sleep. 

Sam woke finally in the middle of the night, trying to block out the image of Dean perpetually on fire long enough to deal with the wet bed beneath him. 

*

 

He’d tried not drinking. He’d tried staying awake. There was only one thing that was going to work—the only thing that had worked when he was a little kid. 

Sam glanced over at Dean, who was pulling on flannel pants to sleep in, yawning into his shoulder. 

“Dean, can I sleep with you tonight?” Sam sounded far more hesitant than he’d meant to. 

And Dean picked up on it. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

Suddenly he was in front of Sam, warm hands on Sam’s arms, stroking. Lips grazing Sam’s lips, cheek. “’Cause right now you don’t seem in the mood for—”

“Right,” Sam agreed. “I just…” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck and he couldn’t meet Dean’s worried eyes as he admitted, “I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“Nightmares?” 

“Only one, actually. The same one.” Instinctively, his arms wrapped around Dean’s body, hands linking and resting against Dean’s back. “I need you to hold me. I need to know you’re with me and safe and…”

Dean kissed him, slid a hand through Sam’s hair. “Come to bed, Sammy.” 

Sam didn’t even correct Dean about his name. He just slid under the covers, cozied up to Dean’s front, and closed his eyes as Dean hugged him close. He was asleep in seconds without a single worry. Dean was here. Dean would protect him. And Dean would never let him go. 

*

 

“Sam!” Dean shook Sam awake. Sam came to, tears streaming down his face, the image of Dean being tortured practically burned into the back of his eyelids now. Those needles. The hot poker. The strap like Dad’s, only much bigger and soaked in acid. Sam buried his face into the pillow and Dean’s shoulder. 

Until he realized the extent of what had happened. And then Sam stiffened in horror. The bed was definitely more than damp with sweat. Dean was more than damp with sweat. “Oh shit. No,” Sam murmured, sitting up in alarm. “That was supposed to work.” Angrily, he stripped off his shorts and dropped the wet thing over the side of the bed. He turned, swinging his long legs out from under the covers, and shivered as the cold bedroom air cause goosebumps up his legs. He sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing how to apologize for this. 

A tough hand reached up and stroked Sam’s head soothingly. “What was supposed to work, Sammy?”

“This,” Sam said, close to losing it now. He had his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. “’Member when we were kids and I’d have nightmares when Dad left? I’d crawl into your bed and just knowing you were nearby would keep the bad dreams away. It was… supposed to work like that.” He shifted in place uncertainly, wanting to stay close to Dean but shamed about what had happened. 

Dean pulled him back down, kissed the top of Sam’s head, and squeezed Sam close. “Maybe it didn’t work because you’re not a kid any more. Maybe you need something else.” 

Sam half cried, half laughed. “Diapers to wear to bed?” 

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. His hand rubbed up and down Sam’s back. “Not exactly what I had in mind.” His hand trailed down, resting on Sam’s ass. “In fact, it wouldn’t be half as much fun with rubber sheets.” He lifted one leg, thrust forward, and scissored his legs around Sam’s bare ones. He ground his crotch into Sam’s, grinning. “Do you still have to piss?”

“What? No. Well…” 

“’Cause I’d kind of like it if you did that again.”

Sam nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, this is weird. Even for us.” 

“A little kink never hurt anybody. And I gotta admit, this is pretty hot.”

“Hot? Seriously?”

“Mmm hmm.” 

“You’re crazy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Dean found Sam’s forehead and kissed. “But just feeling so wet here makes me feel like pissing as well.”

“Dean…”

“I think I’ve gotta go. But I don’t want to go anywhere. You don’t want me to go anywhere, do you?”

Sam shook his head. That was for certain. He lifted his head and kissed Dean deeply. Feelings of familiarity and security rushed through him. And Dean, eagerly, kissed back. Sam refused to inflate Dean’s ego, but the man was a great kisser. They lay like that for a long time, minutes ticking past as if being in bed together in a puddle of Sam’s piss were the most natural thing in the world. 

Finally, Dean shifted around and pressed himself harder against Sam, his urgent, needy cock against Sam’s through a layer of wet clothes. “Oh man… Sammy, I’ve really gotta go now. No kidding.” He rubbed himself against Sam, feeling Sam rise against him. “Please can I? I really need to.” 

“Then you’d better do it,” Sam whispered. He had a feeling Dean wasn’t all that desperate; it had come on way too fast and he’d spent enough time with Dean in a car to know how well the man could hold it when he needed to. He knew what Dean was trying to do now, though. Dean was showing his little brother it was okay to wet the bed. And he was trying to take Sam’s mind off that nightmare. 

Incredibly, it worked. Dean panted a few times, as if trying to hold back. Then he let it out. Piss streamed from him, soaking the already damp bedsheets, warming Sam’s crotch. Before he knew what was happening, Sam was peeing as well, with whatever was left in hm. They clung to each other, rocking together. 

Then Dean rolled over onto Sam, his stream now reduced to dribbling. He pulled down his flannel pants, which stuck to him, and teased at Sam until Sam reached over for the lube Dean always kept on the nightstand. 

When Dean slid inside him, Sam finally felt himself relax. With Dean’s hand around his cock and Dean’s cock thrusting in, it didn’t take him long. Sam’s scream was muffled into Dean’s shoulder. 

Afterward, wrapped in Dean’s arms in Sam’s dry bed, Sam found his body aching for sleep. A strong yawn took him over for a few seconds. “Feeling better, Sammy?” Warm lips on the back of Sam’s neck. A steady heartbeat against his back. 

“You’re not going anywhere?”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not even to the bathroom,” he chuckled.

And Sam, smiling, drifted off into an entirely dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an ROG community fest prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean (I gather from the guidelines that Wincest is okay, as long as they're of age), Sam is having nightmares about Hell, wets the bed. Sleeps with Dean for comfort, wets the bed while sharing, Dean is more than fine with it, provides sexy comfort.


End file.
